


Four Cups of Bitter Tea and One that Wasn't Bitter at All

by SaintPellegrino



Category: Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, The Legend of Zelda
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintPellegrino/pseuds/SaintPellegrino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A string of encounters between a too-bored barista who hates his job and a quiet girl who makes him love it. AU oneshot, Zelink</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Cups of Bitter Tea and One that Wasn't Bitter at All

**I**

He really, _really_ didn’t want anyone to come through those glass-paneled doors right now. Five minutes till closing, and Link thought they couldn’t drag any slower. The tables were washed, the pastries put in the refrigerator for tomorrow, and the jazz station playing through the speakers was becoming increasingly infuriating as the seconds crawled by. “Gotta keep it appealing for everyone, not just your snotty university friends,” Uncle grumbled when Link asked if they could play music from the employee’s iPods instead.

Four minutes.

Not that he was ungrateful, of course. There are so many worse gigs than working in a coffee shop, especially just off campus. He could always wash the dirty dishes or do lawnwork and come back to his dorm exhausted and disgusting instead of smelling like coffee beans and whipped cream. So of course he wasn’t ungrateful. Link knew that he would have to work and sweat and pay his way through college, even though he was a scholarship student.

He hated that connotation. _Scholarship student._ As if he didn’t earn anything on his own.

Grandma and Aryll were so proud at this time last year, when the thick envelope from Castle Towne University arrived, sealed and embossed with Link’s full name on it. So happy.

But then reality set in. The amount of academic work he would have. How he’d be treated differently because he didn’t have a building donated by his family. That he would have to figure out how to still support Aryll and her dream of going to art school while he was at college. That his temper must always be thinly veiled by a mask of seemingly impenetrable calm.

Three minutes.

He had so much to get down before tomorrow’s classes. A paper on the Royal Family’s crown jewels for his history seminar, diagrams of Goron anatomy to memorize, and even more that would most definitely be put off until tomorrow night, and then the next night. And then he would have to manage to sleep enough that night to not get called out by Professor Gaebora again.

It was a vicious cycle.

Two minutes.

But he had to work. He didn’t have an opportunity _not_ to. It kept him alert (most of the time) and helped his study habits (not really) and his people skills (how about no) and everything he told Grandma about his job that he so desperately wanted to believe in.

One minute.

Link stood from his stool and grabbed the mop and sudsy bucket from behind the counter. Of course it would be just _his_ luck to close, today of all days. When he already had so much to do and not enough time because it was already 10-freaking-o’clock. His trainers squeaked against the hardwood that was still sticky from the day’s spills. One last mop of the floor and he would hit the lights, lock the door, and head back to his freezing dorm for a night of attempting to make tiny printed words stay in his brain and gain something from college besides four lost years.

The chime from the door tinkled.

_You have got to be kidding me._

“We’re closed,” Link snapped, slopping the water across the floor. “Our hours are posted at the door, you’re gonna have to-“

“I believe I might have left something here earlier today,” the intruder responded. “A book, actually. Do you have a lost-and-found or anything?”

“Behind the counter.” He stabbed his mop back into the bucket. “Beneath the register is where we keep stuff. Look there.” Link spread the water over the cheap linoleum, scrubbing a particularly nasty pumpkin latte spill that Mido never “got around” to cleaning up on his shift.

A sharp sigh and the _click-click_ of heels, probably from an overworked professor or hotshot lawyer, was all Link got in response. He was too annoyed with his shift, his homework, and the shit that life just kept throwing at him to see her pause and the pitying glance the woman shot back at him, and ignored the “thank-you” as she floated out the door, bell tinkling in lieu of a good-bye.

But as he looks up to see a head of blonde turning around the corner, Link knew he missed something _quite_ special, and walks back to his dorm kicking himself for not being the gentleman his Grandma raised him to be.

**II**

She steals his breath away the first time he _actually_ sees her, in the middle of the morning rush. He freezes when wiping down a table in the Cuckoo Brew, and instead stares through the window at the trio of girls across the street standing in front of the Stock Pot Inn. Miss Anju and Miss Malon are a familiar sight to him, meeting at that corner every morning at 8:30 on the dot before coming into the cafe. Malon orders a much-loved caramel mocha while Anju asks for an iced latte, both asking for cinnamon cakes and sometimes an Earl Grey tea to go before they head to CTU for their classes.

But _her_ … long blonde hair, light blue eyes, heart-shaped lips smiling as she fends off a laugh from her friends… _she_ is something else entirely.

“Are you done with standing there?” Link reluctantly turns to see his Uncle scowling at him.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, watching as the trio of girls hurry past the café, a longing smile tugging at his lips.

“Get to work, boy. Wages aren’t made by looking at pretty girls.”

As if on cue, the girl that captivated Link’s attention looked up, smile wide and hand in her hair. He doesn’t know what else to do besides grin and foolishly raise his hand to wave, forgetting he had a sopping rag in his hand. She ducks her head, blushing, but still looks over her shoulder at him as her friends tug her down the sidewalk.

His heart didn’t start racing long after Saria tugged him behind the register, and Link couldn’t stop thinking about that girl for the rest of his shift, messing up drink orders and dropping pastries on the dirty ground.

But it was worth it.

**III**

It’s two long, excruciating days until he sees her again. Link blearily opens his eyes wide enough as the bell over the door rings, followed by the peals of laughter that accompany Anju and Malon when they enter the shop. Between them is _that_ girl, the one Link couldn’t stop talking to Kafei about when he got back to their dorm. He springs into action, less of the lazy employee his Uncle groaned at when Link was napping during his shifts, and more of the grinning, cheerful barista he wanted her to notice, even at the back of the line (not to mention he wanted to get through these customers as fast as possible to get as much possible time with her without being weird or creepy or whatever synonym he could think of).

After getting through three lawyers, four funny-smelling students, and one businesswoman that alternated between yelling at him and into her Fairytooth, Link puts in the usual orders for his regular customers before even saying hello to them.  “And for you, miss…?” He peeks up from under his dirty bangs, studying the soft blonde waves undulating over her shoulders, the navy blazer that would probably be more appropriate for an internship at the Palace rather than for class, and the books she clasped tightly to her chest. Her mouth is slightly open and her eyebrows furrowed, as if trying to remember something that should come so easily to anyone.

“May I have a small Earl Grey tea?” Her voice her melodious (and he kicks himself for thinking of her in such outdated terms, but they’re the only terms that seem fitting for her) and makes Link almost mess up punching in the total into the register.

“That’ll be four Rupees, and who’s this for?” the typical words have a happier air to the monotony while he tumbles her change in her tiny palm.

She closes her hands over the coins before sliding them into the tips jar. “Zelda.”

He blinks. “…Zelda?”

Her nod is pretty serious for someone so pretty. “Do I need to spell it for you?”

“I may be an underpaid barista, but I think I can handle pronunciations.” Link shifts from one foot to another, suddenly becoming extremely warm in his work polo.

She giggles shortly and it’s a laugh that makes him want to hear again and again.

He snaps out of watching her just in time – Saria has to nudge him subtly to do it, to let her take care of the customer that was becoming more and more peeved at the unresponsive barista, but Link moves behind the machines to shield his growing blush, as he hears the familiar _click-clack_ of heels rejoin her friends at a table nearby.  Back to the motions of responsible employees, not ones who keep shooting sideways glances at a girl laughing along with her friends.

And, as he hands the girls their respective drinks, his hand linger on the cup a bit longer than would usually be allowed, his large hand covered by both of her smaller, softer ones.

“Thank you, Lincoln,” she - _Zelda_ says with a smile when he lets go. After a puzzled jolt he realizes he has his nametag on. Duh.

“Link, actually,” he corrects.

Her blush is cuter every time she sees it. Her face falls in sorrow (embarrassment? Failure?) “I’m so sorry, I only assumed it was shortened-”

“Don’t be. No big deal,” he replies, finishing with a nod and swings around, tray in hand to deliver more orders.

 But as Link backs up, he runs into a _very_ solid Goron, both ending on the ground covered in foam and hot coffee.

Getting yelled at by one of the top mineral investors in the country for the “poor service in the city” and ruining his favorite khakis was quite worth getting cleaned up by a _very_ beautiful and _very_ apologetic Zelda.

**IV**

It’s been almost two weeks since Zelda entered the Cuckoo Brew. During that time Link had ample time to observe her, to figure out exactly how an amazing person such as her could exist. How she always has a book on her, no matter the size of her bag that day. How her silver-spoon accent sounds when she strolls up and says “the usual,” and Link knows to immediately reach around the counter for the teabags he’s been restocking more than they usually have to. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear when the focus of a conversation is on her, how she is careful with her words, and the blush that creeps to the tips of her ears when Anju and Malon tease her.

But Link finds that he learned so much more about her when she’s alone. She’s been making this her _go-to_ spot, coming in the mornings sometimes without her closest friends, in the afternoons between classes for a bite and a large cup of tea, and in the evenings when the café is quieter and he risks getting fired to just sit across from her for a few minutes during his shift.

He listens to her chatter with interest, telling him about her courses (though he would _never_ dare to let her know he also went to CTU), her problematic family (mother died when she was little, a controlling father, and not enough “childhood freedom,” as she likes to put it, is about as much as Zelda’s willing to give away), and their favorite books (he couldn’t understand why she liked _The Memoirs of the Forgotten Hero_ so much, and she openly stated her judgment when he mentioned how _Myths of Hylia_ was his favorite piece of literature. But _The Book of Mudora_ was agreed to be the greatest text ever written in their land’s history, that was for sure).

Zelda is openly astonished when Link mentions he’s never tried Earl Grey tea, and refuses to hold a proper conversation with him until he promises he will, one day, when he’s not surrounded by coffee and tea and everything in between. He finds that she hates coffee but loves the atmosphere of cafes, and Link lets her know he makes the delicious pumpkin muffins that go out of stock in minutes in Cuckoo Brew (“secret family recipe,”  he says with a wink and she pleads for details).

He makes fun of her for being named after the women of the Harkinian Dynasty, while she made a side-by-side comparison of his face and the face of the Hero of Time from her textbook (the same one that was stowed away in Link’s bag under the counter). Anju and Malon raised their brows but said nothing as she lingered behind for a few more words with him, and Link forced himself to let her go and not ramble about the Indigo-Gos or the implications of the three Pendants of Virture theft from the Royal Archives (and he didn’t think much of it when she quickly changed the subject to something, anything, when he talked about politics and the economy and the monarchy. Like she didn’t _want_ to talk about it. But he never pushed her. How could he?).

Zelda’s in the Brew  now, actually. Curled up in the cushiest armchair by the window, letting the sun’s rays dapple over her skin, patiently waiting for someone (being Link, who was the only employee actually working, as Mido and Saria hadn’t made it back from the stockroom yet) to deliver the Earl Grey she ordered five minutes ago.

Five minutes too many. He should’ve decided four minutes ago if he was actually going to write his phone number on the cup he was grasping in his hand. Saria whispered the napkin idea to him after snickering as Link burned himself on the espresso machine while watching Zelda pick apart her pumpkin muffin. Even with it crumbling all around her, lifting the pieces to her lips was still one of the most attractive things he’s seen from her. And he let the tiny cup overflow, dropping and watching it shatter onto the floor while trying to cool off his smoldering hand.

He thought this was better, though. Less obvious. Less danger. Less risked embarrassment if things went awry.  

He peers around the row of machines, spying Zelda engrossed in the pages of her book. She peeks up, waving her hand at Link before checking her watch on the same arm.

Link feebly waved back before ducking back around the machines. He twirled the marker in his fingers, knowing he’s probably going to make a fool out of himself and lose one of the best things that’s come into his life.

He quickly wrote ten digits on the cup, followed by his name (she has to be pretty damn smart to go to CTU but he wasn’t about to take chances on her being able to connect the dots well enough).

He added a “hi” above it, just in case the gesture wasn’t friendly enough already.

Asking for her number was just a mess waiting to happen. He’s not suave like the other CTU guys, emptying wallets full of sticky notes and napkins with numbers scrawled on them at the end of the night. He was so much less than those guys.

And she deserved better.

And he needed to realize that.

So he scribbled everything out, filled the cup with hot water, threw in the teabag and practically slammed the top onto it. Just act like everything is normal and go about your day, that’s it. Then go on your break and throw a few bins around in the alley to let out your anger. Let Uncle yell at you. Go back to your dorm and study into you drool on your textbook. Head to work. Go to class. Back to work. Rinse. Repeat.

Link started to head over to the far corner. He was just going to hand the cup and sulk back to his laptop behind the counter, do more research for his semester thesis, think more about her.

But he chickened out.

He quickly rapped on the supplyroom door. “Mido, I need you for a second.”

“Piss off, loverboy” was all the response he got.”

“I need my break now, man. Just help me out this _one_ time, c’mon.” Link jingled the doorknob, knowing full well Mido wasn’t about to get fired from Cuckoo Brew for messing around with Saria on their “break.” He hung that over their heads ever since the first time Link caught them, one of the first days he started working at the shop.

Sure enough, Mido stepped out and in front of the door, quickly closing it behind him. Link caught a glimpse of Saria buttoning up her shirt, but Mido’s freckled face pushed into his. “What is it, loverboy?”

Link ignored the staff’s newest nickname for him as he extended the cup to Mido. “Get this to the girl at the window seat. I need to do something.”

“But that’s your girl dude-”

“Just do it.” Link shoved the hot beverage into the ginger’s hands, rushing past him to the back entrance, face red and shoulders slumped.

Stalking into the trash-littered alley, Link quietly sat on the steps leading into the store. And he thought. Of his stupid fantasy, of that _stupid_ girl that’s probably sending a picture of his failed attempt to actually get to know a girl to all of her friends.

 His Grandma told him he was named after the legendary Hylian Heroes, full of bravery and courage.

But he didn’t even have the guts to talk to a girl. Awesome.

The alley door creaked open. The unmistakable whiff of his Uncle’s cheap cologne and pipe tobacco soon followed.

A few tense moments passed.

“She was pretty pissed you weren’t the one to deliver her order,” he drawled out.

Link stayed silent. What could he say? _Gee Uncle, that really means she likes me! That makes me feel loads better!_

Yeah right.

Uncle went on, however. “She looked like she was gonna cry when Mido walked up instead of you. Even asked where you went.”

Link could hear his boots scraping against the asphalt. “Perked up right away tho’, after picking up the cup. And smiled. And laughed.”

He could feel his sadness dripping off his skin. Maybe something _did_ go right. “I wonder why she did that, Uncle.”

“Me too, boy. Me too.” Link felt a heavy hand clap on his shoulder as Uncle stood up. “Next time, Link, don’t be so damn rude to a customer. Or so dumb. Especially when she’s a pretty young thing like that. ” The alley door opened with a customary _bang!_ “You better make that up to her pretty quick.”

As the door closed behind him, Link smiled up at the sky, orange streaking against a blue sky.

He’ll never let himself be that rude to a customer again.

Especially her.

Pretty girls make him do dumb things, he supposes.

**I**

She didn’t come in all day. Not in the morning, where all Link got was Anju and Malon’s raised eyebrows and curt small talk. Sara shot worried glances at him all morning, asking if he was all right, while Mido kept apologizing for whatever he did to make Link so “low,” as he called it. The afternoon was dull without her lighting up the café, and his classes dragged by with the knowledge she probably wouldn’t be waiting for him when the hour was up and he had to head back.

And he was closing today too. Just his luck.

Five minutes until he was free. It was five minutes and thirty seconds the last time he looked.

Link groaned as he turned his attention back to his laptop. The last customer left ages ago, the tables were wiped, he already mopped, and he was ready and waiting to head out.

Of course, nobody would really care if he cut loose early.

Then again, there was still a chance she would come by. One last chance.

Four minutes.

He stumbled onto Hyrupedia’s page on the Royal Family after abandoning studying for his history exam, eyes glazed over as he head on and on about the oldest blood in Hyrule.

_“While the Monarchy has evolved over the course of our nation’s history, one tradition remains: naming female heirs after the iconic founder of the Hylian Kingdom and of the Harkinian House. The fabled original bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom, Zelda I and the Forgotten Hero fought against the forces of darkness and restored balance to a wounded world. That was not a means to an end, however, as the rise of the Wind Mage, Vaati introduced a new threat…”_

Link glanced back up. Two minutes.

_Didn’t Zelda’s last name start with an H? C’mon, what was it, it was on the inside cover of her textbook when she left it here that one time, you know this Link…_

The bell tingled, but even Link couldn’t be paid to present the adequate customer service Cuckoo Brew was known for. “Check the door, we’re closed for the night-”

 “I believe I left something here.” A voice that seemed so out-of-reach came rushing back to Link. “Actually, I think _you_ left something on _here.”_  He jerked up, seeing a few stray hairs sticking up this way and that on her head, her handbag sitting on _his_ counter, heels in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, finger tapping on the plastic ( _she went to another store how dare she does she know nothing about customer loyalty_ ) _._ She was looking at him expectantly, eyebrows raised.

How he missed _her,_ even with the dark circles and weary eyes so up-close, he needed _her_ back in his life.

Thank the gods.

Link folded his arms, ready to meet her challenge. “How so?”

Zelda lifted the mug towards him. “See for yourself.”

He snatched the cup out of her hand, turning it in his hands. “I gave you my number, so what?” If she was about to mock him, right now, Link swore he would-

“But it’s not your number,” Zelda interrupted. “Look again.”

And he did. _089-477-5432_. _That’s my phone number of course that’s my number why is she looking at me with that smirk in her eyes what’s eating at-_

Wait.

Link looked one more time.

Oh. _You’re an idiot, Link._

He sheepishly smiled. “I wrote my sister’s number. Hers is different by one digit.”

“I know,” Zelda replied with a twinkle in her eye. “She told me.”

He couldn’t help but to let the shock show on his face. “You talked… to Aryll? Called her?”

“She’s a wonderful girl. I wish I could have a sister like her.”

He shrugged. “She must’ve told you how much of an idiot I was. Am.”

“She did. I also informed her of how rude you were to me yesterday.”

Link slowly walked around, setting the cup on the counter as he did so. “And yet you still stopped by to let me know that I was a fool.”

Her lips formed a small smirk. “I actually wanted to see what you meant by giving me your number. That is, if you gave me the right one in the first place.”

His hand went to the back of his head, scratching nervously. “I was going to see if you wanted to do something… you know. Not here.”

“Elaborate for me, oh suave Link,” Zelda joked. He could feel the tips of his fingers threading through her own, an innocent gesture on the counter.

“Would you, uh – I mean, if you don’t have anything going on already with your family and stuff, or… any night, really…” Thank the goddesses Kafei wasn’t there to make fun of him. “Do you want to have dinner with me? Sometime? Whenever? When you’re – uh, free?” Stumbling over his words wasn’t helping his cause, as Link looked anywhere that wasn’t Zelda’s red and probably embarrassed face. “Or… coffee? We could get coffee! Or tea, because you only drink tea. You mentioned one time you hated coffee because that’s all your father drank in his study and you started to hate the smell of it when he kicked you out all the time when he had to get work done. Yeah.”

Right. Shit. What kind of idiot asked a girl out to do something he _knew_ they both did every day? He knew it was in her routine by now, and no girl just wants to do the same old thing with any old guy. Stupid stupid stupid.

Her head was still ducked, and for a moment Link was frozen with terror, thinking he somehow offended her and she needed to make a quick escape from his annoying clutches, but then he realized. Her other hand was in front of her mouth and her shoulders shook and Link realized; she was laughing.

Which really wasn’t for the better.

“Tomorrow sounds perfect,” she said finally, raising her head back up to his. The corners of her mouth were curved upwards. “I would love to have dinner, or coffee with you. Surprise me.”

Elation shot through him. He was positive he was smiling wider than social standards dictated and he wasn’t “playing it cool” like he should be and this wasn’t a “big deal” at all. That was for Mido and Kafei and every other guy he knew. He was better at observing (a nice word for stalking, Link thought).

“Tomorrow is good. It’s great! I’ll be here.”

Her smile finally reached her eyes. The smile that he _knew_ was somehow reserved for the people Zelda cared most about. Like him. “I know,” she mumbled, fingers clasping his tightly.

As he cupped the back of her neck and she clutched the front of his apron, Link didn’t even care that it was way past closing, a paper still had to be finished, and a used coffee cup fell to the floor. That he had a million questions about the _exact_ nature of her “private” family and how he managed to not notice her on the CTU grounds. And how she knew he was closing that day, how she knew he would be waiting for her.

Those questions could wait.

For Link finally learned what Earl Grey tea tasted like.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!


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